


Jungle Red vs Valley Blue

by DoomNightAt12



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, I regret writing such a large cast, Shameless self indulgence of a plot, The Blues get the short end of the stick, The Reds and Blues meet more sim troopers, The Reds make friends, pre-Chorus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:20:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23488222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoomNightAt12/pseuds/DoomNightAt12
Summary: Out in the middle of nowhere, the Red and Blues find another group of Sim Troopers caught up in their own private war, and obviously get dragged into it.Unfortunately, it seems the Jungle Reds know what they're doing when it comes to dealing with Blues, leaving a big target on our favourite colourful soldiers.
Comments: 22
Kudos: 18





	1. Endless Jungle

“Alright, it’s official. We’re lost.”

Tucker kicked the nearest tree root, “Fuck’n seriously?”

Deep in the undergrowth of an old forest, between trees of all sizes and vines that seemed to form a net around them, were three Reds, two Blues, two ex-freelancers and one AI, lost. The small clearing they’d stumbled into had only a sliver of natural light, the rest of the roots and bushes illuminated by the lights on their helmets. Finally with a chance to catch their breaths, Carolina crossed her arms and turned her attention to the hologram on her shoulder.

“Epsilon…”

“Hey, don’t take that tone with me! I’d like to see you get a signal out through all… this!” He gestured widely to the darkness. 

“Heh, typical clueless blues. If we had a few tonnes of explosives, we’d be through this in no time!”

Ignoring Sarge’s usual dangerous suggestion, Grif took a seat on the nearest root, the size of them perfect for the job, and hell to walk through. Simmons stood to his left, not trusting to get closer to the forest floor, but chose to listen to Sarge.

“No offence sir, but setting off explosives in such close quarters would probably be more danger than it’s worth.”

“Offence taken Simmons.”

He hung his head, “Sorry sir.”

“There’s got to be  _ something  _ we can follow here.” Washington had suddenly found himself busy with untangling Caboose from the vines, the Blue rookie more focused on staring deeper into the growth. 

“Yeah, how about  _ anything _ but Church’s directions?”

“Shut it Tucker, like you could do better.”

Carolina tapped her foot, almost seeming claustrophobic in the tight space,  “Have you tried everything? Thermal? Long range? Motion tracking? What if I climb up one of the higher trees?”

“Nothing means nothing, though watching you climb a tree would be pretty funny.” 

“Maybe we ask the forest for directions.” Caboose sounded very sure of himself, “I think it has something to say anyway.”

“I take that back, I won’t follow Caboose either.”

“What do you mean-?” Finding Caboose actually pointing into the forest, Wash tried to follow his line of sight. There was a flicker of movement-

“Well look what we have here!”

The group all turned at the unfamiliar voice, watching as three figures emerged from the underbrush. All in shades of red and armed with battle rifles, two of the soldiers moved to the side while the third opened his arms in a welcoming gesture and spoke again.

“It’s always beautiful to see another win for the glorious Red army! Tell me, who is the leader of your squad?”

Sarge quickly moved forward, hoisting his shotgun with pride, “That would be me, Sarge of Blood Gulch outpost one. And who would you be, other than a fine look’n Red soldier?”

“Ah, forgive me! I am Commander of Endless Jungle outpost three.” He gave an exaggerated bow, “And these two are part of my squad, Private Ironmonger-”, the soldier to his left had a helmet like a welding mask, coloured in red and black, “And private Garland.” The soldier to his right wore a scout helmet that was in red with orange details. 

Tucker stage whispered, “More Reds? Like we didn’t have enough headaches.”

Church’s hologram had vanished, but his actual whisper sounded out.

“It’s like we’re magnets for them.”

Commanders voice boomed in the small space, “We were out on patrol when we saw signs of recent moment through the brush. We certainly didn’t expect to find such a wonderful sight. Tell me, were you planning on killing these Blues, or taking them prisoner?” 

“Oh these Blues?" Sarge shrugged, "Not much fight in them, and I ain’t shaming myself by putting down such pitiful foes.”

“I understand entirely! Why sully the Red Army name on a few worthless insects.”

As Commander and Sarge continued to share insults, the Blues in question watched on.

“I don’t like the look of this.” Carolina flexed her hands, but Church was the first to reason with her.

"Hey, these guys sound like nuts, but where there's soldiers, there's a base. A base with supplies and possibly a way out of this place." 

Carolina and Washington shared a silent look, before raising their arms. Tucker got the idea and followed along, Caboose throwing up his arms like it was some celebration. 

"Prisoners who know their place, wonderful work. Though those blue devils can be sneaky. Garland, Ironmonger, help those other privates in disarming the captives.”

The two jungle Reds began removing the guns from their mag locks, Simmons and Grif cautiously helping and holstering the extras where they could.

Commander wrapped an arm around Sarge's shoulders, "I feel we'll get along like a Blue base on fire!" 

"Do you have one of those?" 

"We used to! Come, let's have a celebration in your honor!”

Caboose couldn’t help but pipe up, “Celebrate? Is it someone's birthday?”

Commander began leading the group back into the jungle, the Red privates surrounding the Blues.

“It's been awhile since we’ve taken Blue prisoners.” Simmons mused.

“Isn’t it thrilling? To hold the life of your enemy in your hands?!” Ironmonger gripped his gun tighter, brimming with enthusiasm.

Grif chose to talk to the less excitable Jungle Red, “Please tell me you have grub as your base.”

“Yes, and a chef.” Garland shoved his gun into Washington, ignoring Grif’s fist pump in favour of moving the prisoners faster.

“Don't poke me.” Wash grumbled.

“Are we going to have cake at the birthday? And games-! Wait. I forgot to get a present.”

“Caboose? Shut up.”


	2. Valley Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Blues meet their fellow captives, and the Reds get a tour of camp.

The jungle overhang parted suddenly, opening to a clear felled camp. The few tents set up, held down by supply boxes brimming with guns and ammo, were set around a roaring campfire and kitchen sort of set-up. There was one soldier brewing something in a pot, and another two patrolling the area. Behind it all stood a concrete base plastered in Red army marks, and the charred remains of Blue army flags. The floodlights on top lit the entire area in a white light. 

“What a wonderful set up! Love the decoration.” Sarge looked around in admiration, eyes settling on a few small machines being built under a tarp. Commander finally removed his arm from Sarge’s shoulder, turning to face the group.

“I’m glad you like it! Nothing like the blood of your enemy to spruce things up.” He clenched his fist as if he were crushing something, before waving to the portly soldier at the kitchen, whose armor was bright yellow. “Darvis is our wonderful chef here, and I’m sure he’ll be glad to give you a tour of our glorious base. Meanwhile-”

Darvis made his way over, and at the same time the other two had approached, both identical in red and orange colour armor, armed to the teeth. 

“We’ll escort your prisoners to their cells, get them comfortable for their future servitude to the Red army.” 

Carolina bristled as the weapons trained on the group, and both Washington and Tucker tensed for a possible scuffle. Thankfully no one made a move for their triggers. Commander led the march into Red base, the twin soldiers referred to as Bob and Wylie held at Caboose and Tuckers sides, while Garland and Ironmonger followed at the rear, guns pressed to Carolina’s and Washington's backs. 

The structure sloped down from the entrance, humidity cooling off as they travelled deeper and deeper. After several turns past closed doors and hollow rooms, one wide hallway opened before them, lined with bars on either side. Commander punched away at a keypad at the start of the hallway, causing the left side to slide open as the other four Red soldiers forced the Blues into two cells.

There wasn't much in the cell, only a bunk each and a small 'bathroom' behind a half wall, but there were signs of previous occupants in the form of scratches and attempts to clean blood stains. 

“Please, make yourselves comfortable. You’ll be staying with us for a long time, so I hope we can all get along.”

Commander bowed, before he and the rest of the Jungle Reds left.

Tucker sighed as he slumped onto one of the beds, having been stuck in a cell with Carolina, “Was this the smartest thing we could have done? Really?”

“They did have us surrounded.”

Church flickered on Carolina’s shoulder. “We could have taken ‘em.”

“Eh, dat would ‘av been fun to see.”

The four turned back towards their cell doors, spying through into the two cells across from them where they could see four others dressed in Blue armor. Each of them sat hunched, however the forms of three of them weren’t exactly normal. 

“Oh, hello there!” Caboose waved, and the one normal shaped soldier waved back, showing that every second finger they had was metallic. 

Carolina stepped forward, pressing her helmet right up against the bars.

“Who are you?”

The four other Blues looked between themselves until the soldier in the dark blue indomitable armor, who only had one arm, spoke to his fellow captives. “Uuh, ya wanna talk to the crazies mate?”

The one with a teal colour technicians helmet, which had a large red splatter over the left eye, stood and stepped forward, their awkward metal legs clunking with each step.

“Communications Officer M-4, ma'am. These are my squadmates, Immanual the heavy gunner-” they pointed at the one armed man, “Ingas our pilot-” a lanky soldier in blue grey armor, “and Aloyisius is our rookie.” He was still waving at Caboose, dressed completely standard mark VI blue gear, save for his fingers. 

“So who’s in charge?”

They gave a half shrug, “Well, the Reds have killed everyone else higher in rank ma'am. I believe the four of us, we’re all that remains of Disaster Valley outpost 4.“

Tucker chimed in, “Like a name like that wasn’t asking for it.”

Carolina stomped to quiet him, “How many have been killed here?“

Ingas stood, showing that their visor took up most of their helmet as an air force pilots helmet would. As they tried to gesture, it became clear their arms were actually some kind of two fingered, metalic wing shape. 

“It’s unclear, there were people from other outposts here too when we were captured. There were eight of us from outpost four, another six from outpost five, and there were the remains of what we assume the local outpost when we got here.”

“So ten plus dead, and we’re next on the list? I didn’t realise there were any actual competent soldiers in this ‘war’.“ Church crossed his arms, shaking his head.

“Bastards ‘ar ruthless.” The one armed blue grumbled, “But ‘ey won’t kill ya right away. They play whit ya first.”

His meaning was clear as he rubbed at his shoulder stump. Wash shot a concerned glance around the room.

"Are the others going to be safe with those guys then?”

“Depends, are they fanatical Red army supporters?”

They all shared a look. M-4 waved a dismissive hand.

"As long as they're not Blue and give their every thing to the Red army, they'll be fine.”

Tucker chimed in once more, “What’s stopping you from defecting to the other team then?”

“It’s all or ‘nuthin wit deez guys. Once blue, always blue.”

“Then let’s hope they’re really not that attached to us.”

* * *

Sarge, Simmons and Grif watched as Commander led the Blues away, before the chef waved a ladle to get their attention. Darvis, on further inspection, was wearing an apron with the slogan ‘Kiss the Chief’ over his yellow armor, and had a chefs hat tapped to his helmet. He gave a hearty chuckle as he led them to the fire and pointed out key points around the camp.

“This here is my domain, where I craft meals from rations and what we harvest from the jungle. I hope you don’t mind taste testing!”

At the wafting smell, Grif leaned forward, “I hope you don’t mind having a new best friend.”

Darvis’ laugh got louder as he smacked Grif on the back, “Wonderful! I’m sure we’ll all get along just fine!”

"Over there is Ironmonger's lab." His finger landed on the machinery, "He loves his tinkering, fixes our vehicles and builds robots. Something is broken? He can fix it. Something is not broken? He can improve it! Also works on the flesh if needed." 

“Sounds like my kinda like-minded fellow.” Sarge seemed to be brimming with excitement.

“And over there is the RnR zone. Gotta have some down time after a long days work.” They made their way over to one of the tents, Darvis pushing aside the entrance flap. “We’ve got all sorts of relaxing games, like; pin the grenade on the blue, Ultimate Uno, and Chess, though we play house rules since the prices are blue and red. I’m sure our other new friend would be happy to show you how it works.”

He pointed out another soldier sitting at a makeshift table, wearing a familiar colour.

“Oh hey guys!“

Simmons reeled back at the familiar voice, “Donut? Why are you here?”

“Well after I got separated from you all in the jungle, I stumbled upon these nice fellows who invited me back to their camp!“

Simmons leaned closer to Grif, whispering, “Did you notice he was gone?” 

“Next you’ll be telling me Doc was with us too.“ Grif stage whispered back, glancing around, worried the neurotic medic would appear just by saying his name. When no flashes of purple emerged, Darvis excused himself back to the kitchen to finish dinner, saying he’d call for them once it was ready.

“You guys are gonna love it here! These Jungle guys are super friendly, and they’ve got all sorts going on. More than we did."

“You know, I was thinking the same thing Donut. Looks like we’ll be sticking around for a while boys!”

Simmons and Grif shared a look, before shrugging and joining Donut at the table.


	3. Red for Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Reds have dinner

After a much too long game of Uno, it was Commander who came to the tent to bring the Reds to dinner. A few more boxes had been set up around the fire for everyone to sit on, Commander feverently patting one to his left. 

“Sarge, come, sit sit!”

The Red leader happily took the seat, resting his shotgun beside him. Simmons, Grif and Dount sat to Sarge’s left, while Bob, Wylie and Ironmonger sat on Commander’s right. Darvis began serving up and handing out bowls of what seemed to be a stew, leading most of the privates to remove their helmets to eat. Sarge and Commander accepted their bowls, however they were already staring into each other's visors, talking away. 

“So how do you like our camp?”

“She’s a fine establishment! Makes me nostalgic for our own lil ‘ol base back in Blood Gulch.”

Grif took a moment from shoveling food to give Sarge a look of disbelief, “You’re nostalgic for a block of concrete in a scorching, empty box canyon.” 

“It had certain war charm, not something a good-for-nuthn’ like you would understand.”

Commander laughed, “I know what you mean Sarge, the first base we were deployed to wasn’t much, but we did our best to stop the Blues getting in, and back then, it was enough.”

Simmons blew on his spoonful, glancing over the Jungle Reds. 

“How long have you been at this base?”

“Hmm, it must be a few years now? Helmet clocks are a bit out of sync.” Ironmonger tapped the side of his head.

“And before then?”

Commander put a hand to his chin in ponder. 

“Well, when we first deployed, we fought against the Blues for eight months. Then suddenly they called in help, and before we knew it they’re making a frontal assault.”

“Ooh a freelancer?”

“Is that what they’re called? Some fancy fighter with no right joining those damn Blues and giving them the upper hand, that's a freelancer?

Grif held his bowl out for a top up, but grimaced at the thought of certain black armour.

“Yeah, we dealt with something similar.”

Sarge threw a pointed finger, “Hey, we successfully captured that Texas in our first encounter.”

“Was that before or after she’d blown up Donut and knocked out me and Simmons?”

“It was still a win for the Red team.”

“Except _THEN_ the Blues broke her out, and we had to deal with the rest of the bullshit that followed too!”

Sarge muttered, but Commander nodded knowingly, “Our encounter was similarly disastrous. While most of the Blues were turned to a beautiful red mist thanks to the base's self-destruct system we’d installed, it also did not discriminate against a few loyal Reds who wanted to personally finish the job, rest their souls. Once that over powered soldier was out of the picture, Ironmonger, Garland and myself made the decision to go out and help our fellow Reds, where ever they be.”

Grif held his bowl out again, Darvis happily topping it up, “So you aren’t all from the same base?”

“We picked up the twins and Darvis from a different base while on our helping out mission.”

Bob and Wylie looked at each other, then sheepishly into their blows, while Darvis just nodded. 

“Ey, we hadn’t been there long, but it seemed our Blues had some weaponry we didn’t, and it caused our base to burn. We fought hard, but if it weren’t for Commander we’d be piles of Red ash.”

“For Reds, anywhere and everywhere!” Commander gave a triumphant laugh, hoisting his bowl up like a glass. 

“Cheers to that my friend!” Sarge threw up his bowl and clacked it in a toast, before both Red leaders threw them on the ground and laughed. 

Grif stared at the wasted food longingly, Darvis patting him on the shoulder when he noticed.

“Don’t worry, nothing is to be wasted in the jungle. The Blues will get to enjoy the extra grit! Ha ha.”

He began to scrape up the remains into another bowl, setting it aside. Donut clapped his hands together in delight.

“How ecological! It’s great to see you considering how to reuse and recycle, though with all these lights you must have quite a carbon footprint.”

“We turn them down at night.” Wylie( _? _ ) spoke in a light tone, causing Simmons to observe the twins closer. They were almost indistinguishable even without their helmets, one wearing their hair in a high ponytail, and the other with a low ponytail. 

“And how do you know when it’s night?”

“When Commander says it is, which is usually after dinner.” Bob( _? _ ) spoke in a lower tone, standing to take the finished bowls, “Our bunk rooms are in the base.” 

Wylie followed in sync as they continued, “And there’s plenty of space to share.”

“Hell yeah, time to hit the hay!” Grif got up with surprising speed, following the two as they walked away to the base the Blues had been taken into earlier. Simmons and Donut bid their good nights before heading the same way. 

“I think a rest is well deserved after a battle hard fought.” Commander patted Sarge on the back, “Go, we can give you a more in depth tour tomorrow, and you can tell me all about the triumphs of your Red division.”

“Look forward to it! I feel I could fill about ten seasons with our adventures.”

As Sarge bid Commander goodnight and disappeared into the concrete base,the lights above the camp dimming, leaving the Jungle Red leader, mechanic and chef illuminated by the campfire.

“So… what do you think of them Darvis?”

The yellow sim trooper began to tidy his cooking station. 

“They certainly ain’t like the last lot, but it’s good to have more Reds in our ranks.”

“But why were they in the Jungle with a bunch of Blues? I was sure we’d cleared all the nearby outposts...”

“Sounded like that Sargent would be happy to tell you all about it, and as for the Blues-” He looked at Ironmonger’s growing grin, “I’m sure they’ll open up too, with the usual convincing.”


	4. Know your friends and foes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Reds get comfortable, the Blues less so...

The next morning, or what they assumed was morning in the dark depth of the jungle, the Reds joined Darvis, Ironmonger and Garland for breakfast. A mix of probably porridge, with the addition of what could possibly be local berries, was served in the same way as dinner. As they seated themselves, Sarge looked around the camp.

“Where’s Commander? I’d finally decided on a story order after thinking all night.”

Ironmonger stretched, “Morning patrols, never know what may be in the Jungle. More so since we found you all! But nevermind big red, I hear you have an interest in the art of metal and flesh~?”

Sarge put a contemplative hand to his chin.

“I’ve certainly tinkered. Lopez was all metal, and Grif was all disgusting flesh, but I guess my work on Simmons covers both.”

The mechanic smoothly slunk his way next to Simmons, eyes gleaming, before sliding up next to Sarge. 

“Would you like to see my workshop? I’d love a superior opinion on my work and concepts~”

Sarge puffed his chest out a little at the compliment, “I’m sure I could run a trained eye over them for a fellow Red.”

Grif cleaned up his sixth bowl, Darvis still delighted at his appetite, while Simmons rubbed at his left arm, turning to the new face of Garland. 

“Is there anything you need for us to do? It must be hard looking after such a big camp with only a few of you.”

“For christs sake Simmons, we're being treated as guests here and you’re asking for _work?!_ ”

“Your offer is kind, but there’s no need for you to push yourselves. As your orange partner says, you’re our guests.” Garland stirred his food, before reluctantly eating a mouthful, “Our camp labour is supplemented by the Valley Blues.”

Donut tilted his head, “So you guys do have Blues here?”

As if emerging on the mere mention of the enemy, Commander strode up to the group.

“They’re not exactly _our_ Blues, as you might figure from the name, but another group like yourselves that we found out in the Jungle. We took them prisoner to find out where they had come from, but Ironmonger insisted some _unconditional_ labour would be beneficial to expanding our operation.”

The Jungle Red leader dismissed the bowl that was offered to him, choosing to come up to Sarge and Ironmonger.

“Has our mechanic offered to show you around the workshop yet?”

Said Red leapt from his seat, grabbing both Sarge and Commander by the arm to drag them away with a delighted, “ _I have so much to show you!_ ”

Garland let out a harsh breath through his nose as he watched the three leave, setting down his food and turning to Simmons.

“If you’re against idling your time, perhaps Bob and Wylie can find you something to do.”

Grif scoffed, “I’m all about idle time. Master Chef, where’s the best place to sleep off a meal?”

With a chuckle, Darvis tossed the bowls into the empty pot, “De top of the base is where we keep the camouflage netting, which makes a surprisingly good hammock.”

“Guess I’ll go _inspect the camouflage_. Eh?” 

Simmons brushed away the orange elbow poking at his ribs. 

“And where would those two be?”

“Wait ‘round the back of the RnR tent. They’re collecting the Blues right now.”

As Simmons stood, Donut followed suit.

“I’m certainly excited to get up close and personal with some new strangers!”

Garland squinted in both confusion and exhaustion as the two wandered away.

* * *

Ironmongers ‘Workshop’ was in even more of a state than the previous night, schematics and notes scattered everywhere, streaked with oil and grease. 

“What to show first…”

The mechanic dug through the papers with clear intent, and Commander took a moment to steer the conversation. 

“So how was your first base, Blood Gulch was it? Were you well equipped?”

“Ah, I remember it as if it were yesterday. Several tonnes of metal ready for Blue destruction came in the form of a Warthog, the smell of a chaingun still lingers in the air to this day.”

“Talking vehicles first? Oh leeme just-”

Ironmonger pulled out some schematics showing a number of vehicles Sarge recognised.

“These here are my thoughts on replacements for the M12 MRV’s chaingun. Jamming and ammo issues can be quite the issue in battle, so this here is more a railgun! Haven’t figured out how to shrink the power supply yet…”

“High speed projectiles? Innovative! Perhaps you could use the engine space, run everything off the one source. I made myself one that launched emps!”

“Clever clever~! A launcher that renders the enemy useless, I love it! How did you get around it affecting the M12 MRV?”

“Anyway, what else do you have around here?"

Ironmonger dropped the papers at his feet and scooped up some others, "Well, I've tinkered with some other designs, most either to up their Blue killing power, or to make them effective in the jungle. Bikes, diggers, clear fell machines. Tanks in trees? Not a good mix. Now, if the tank could fly-!" 

"Ah, the Blues put their tank AI in a ship once. So we put a talking bomb on it." 

Commander chuckled gleefully, "How delightful! Did it spew insults upon detonation?" 

"Weeeeell it was a rude lil bastard. Blues built it out of their robot kit, which I now regret not doing with Lopez, but I guess a bomb doesn't really pick sides. Insulted anything that got near it."

Commander visibly deflated, but Ironmonger only perked up more at the mention of robots. 

"Robots! One of life's greatest gifts to our fleshy lives! Oh how I adore their actuators and flowing grease. To model metal after the human form, brilliant! How how I would love to talk to this Lopez of yours~" 

"Do you speak Spanish?" 

"Do I spe-? Not fluently."

"Then you wouldn't get much from him." 

"Oh. Well, as the wonderful creator, I'd love to see your work. You see, my real interest is in the work you've done to your maroon private."

"Simmons? Used him for parts to fix the orange one, then used robot parts to fix him!"

"And isn't that just the peak of existence?! Flesh and metal, together as one! Sure those at medical school gave me looks for trying to put wires in every patient, and those in engineering school scorned me for bringing copes onto campus, but they just couldn't see my vision. You understand right? _Right?!_ "

Ironmonger put himself visor to visor with Sarge, letting the Red leader see the wide eyes behind the purple tint. Commander grabbed his private by the back of his collar to drag him back. 

"We'll save the more _messy_ show for another day, since I'm sure you're still in planning for our current subjects?"

"True true. Planning, testing, prototyping~ If you have any suggestions Sarge, don't keep them to yourself! I'll build anything!"

"Anything you say? We'll, I did think about a Blue crushing machine once..."

Ironmonger pulled himself from Commander's grip, and dashed to his table to pull out a fresh blueprint page and pencil. He gestured for both Red leaders to come closer.

"Lets make those thoughts a reality! Come come~!" 

* * *

Simmons was grateful that he didn’t have to sit through _another_ game of uno when he saw the twin Reds leaving the base. Finally putting the cards away and Donuts' words out of his head, they waved down the Jungle Reds, as well as the two Blues who were following between them. 

“Oh, good morning.” Came the deep tone from the front of the precession. 

Donut skipped right up beside the group, “Good morning! Are these your other friends?”

A loud scoff came from the largest Blue, who was missing his left arm. Simmons instinctively grabbed at his own arm protectively.

“Oh yes, we’re all such _good friends._ ” Said the other Blue who had wings rather than arms, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Quiet maggots.” Wylie’s light tone was harsh before it softened, “Was there something we could help you with?”

“Uuuh, yeah. We- um, I- Just wondering if there was any work that needed doing.” Simmons shifted awkwardly, looking around while Donut invaded the Blue’s personal space. 

“A Red? Doing work? What’a joke!”

The one armed Blue received a swift kick in the leg, so Bob continued.

“We usually let the prisoners do most of the work, but if you’re that bored then I guess you can help out. We’re working on the east side at the moment.”

They turned and began to walk off towards the edge of the camp, Simmons moving to Bob’s side, while Donut kept pace with the prisoners.

“Soooo, I’m Donut, that’s Simmons, and you two are…?”

The winged Blue looked back at his companion, and they silently shared a moment of consideration, before he turned back to Donut.

“... Ingas. And he’s Immanual. You’re both…” He ducked his head, whispering, “- _friends_ of those other Blues?”

“Well sure! Once you’ve fought against each other for a few years, killed, been killed, who let's colour get in the way of friendship?"

The two digits on the point of Ingas' wing snagged Donut's shoulder armor, dragging him in close. "Do _not_ let them hear you say that."

"Why not?" 

Bob glanced over his shoulder, but continued walking. Ingas released Donut, but neither of the Blues spoke until they reached the work site. 

"Blues, you're working on the underbrush, get to pulling." Bob pointed out an area full of bushes and vines, "As for you two…" 

He scratched at his helmet, looking around the space, before looking at their twin. Wylie moved to unlock a supply crate.

“There are still some trees to clear, and these tools require trust and two hands."

She hefted a rather large chainsaw, but after eyeing the two Reds, she put it back and instead pulled out a blunt band saw, passing it over.

“One each end, when you’ve got it in position, push the buttons at the same time to activate the laser blade, then _slowly_ push it through the tree. Understand?” 

“Push through the wood, on it!” Donut chimed, pressing the button at the same time Simmons was also investigating, almost severing several hands as the red laser sparked to life. 

“Red almighty!” Wylie’s tone sounded like their twins' low one as they leapt back, “I’m just… going to go over there…” 

With the two Jungle Reds moving to mark trees for cutting, Donut used the chance to slide back up to the Valley Blues, dragging Simmons along as they both still held the saw.

“How did you fellows come to be in a place like this?”

Immanual didn’t even look at Donut, “Bloom’n heck, you’re all chatty bastards ain’t cha?”

“Failed rescue mission.” Ingas mumbled, already thoroughly tangled in vines, “Man I miss having thumbs.”

“How noble, and I must say, those are some interesting arms you have there!”

“Don’t let the welding mask one get too close, or you’ll likely lose your own.” Immanual rubbed at the empty socket of his shoulder. 

“So it was him.” Simmons shivered, “I hope Sarge doesn’t get any new ideas.” 

“If you value your skin, I’d get your friends and leave as soon as possible.”

“So the others are okay?”

“For now.”

Donut and Simmons shared a look, and as the gaze of the twins landed on them, they moved to start cutting the trees. The only words they shared afterwards were work orders, until Commander once again came to collect them for dinner. 

In the following days, they saw the four Valley Blues doing various jobs around the camp. However, as Garland took over watch, there were no longer any chances to talk.

* * *

The Blues and Freelancers were finding that life as a prisoner wasn’t too bad in the Jungle Red base. The meals were surprisingly good (despite what looked like dirt in a few bowls), and none of the Red soldiers chose to heckle them, Garland only staring imposingly each time he was on guard duty. 

The main problems were the ‘being prisoners’ and ‘having nothing to do’ parts. The only thing that would break up the day was every so often, the Jungle Reds would take one or two of the Valley Blues from their cell, and return them several hours later. 

Hearing the usual approach of guards, Tucker looked over to the other captives. 

“Man why do you guys get time in the yard?”

“Don’t be too envious.” M-4 streched, their joints cracking much too loudly, “It’s all physical labour, clearing the jungle, moving supplies.”

Wash quirked his head to the side, “Why? Is there any reason for them to be out here still?” 

“No clue. They seem to be happy enough to wait for fools to wander into their territory.” 

Tucker waved, “Like you guys?”

Ingas bristled at the jab, “We were responding to our fellow outpost's distress signal, after they went looking for the Jungle Blues. What the hell were you doing out here?”

Carolina perked up.

“Wait, signal? You got a signal from here?”

Ingas nodded, waving his wing. 

“Yeah. From our original scouting, they got a reeeeeal tall radio tower on top of their base. Seems to be the only thing that can call in and out.”

She looked as best she could towards the rest of her team, “You thinking what I’m thinking?” 

Church’s light flickered, “We get to the tower, we know our way out.”

They all shared a look, finally finding a lead. Tucker stood, eyeing the other captives, "Hey, you guys want out too right?" 

Immanual waved his singular hand, "Escape is'a lil outa _reach_ for us."

"How so? You all still got legs." 

Ingas’s tone was defeated, "We also have armor locks installed. As long as we're anywhere in range of that radio tower, our escape options are become statues or be filled with holes." 

Commander suddenly appeared in the entrance, not showing if he'd heard the talk of escape or not. Ironmonger stood behind him, bouncing slightly in anticipation. 

"Afternoon you _Dirty Blues._ Oh Sarge was right that's a good one, hah." He began to open the door to the Valley Blues, "I hope our newest captives are feeling well, because today we start your integration!" 

Ironmonger pointed out M-4 and Aloysius, who left their cell. Closing their door, Commander moved to unlock the otherside. Seeing a perfect window for escape with only two Reds on guard, Carolina flexed her hand, signalling for the others to be ready. Ironmonger next pointed to the cell which held Washington and Caboose, Commander nodding along.

M-4 and Aloysius stood in front of the bars, blocking most of the space for escape, but Wash guessed the combined force of himself and Caboose would be plenty to knock them over. He tensed a little in preparation.

A small 'cling' rang out, and attention turned to Ironmonger, who was now holding a grenade and pin separately. 

"Please don't be troublesome, we don't want to waste precious resources. Flesh or metal, we want to make the most of them~" 

As he held it out to the other cell, the threat was clear. Wash slightly relaxed his stance, and rested a hand on Caboose’s shoulder. 

"Right, no trouble." There would be other chances, especially if they were leaving their cell. The doors disengaged, and they stepped forward, M-4 taking Washington's wrist in cuffs Commander had provided, and Aloysius trying to do the same with Caboose, but at some point the rookies just ended up holding hands. 

"Wonderful~ Come along then!" 

Commander left the room, Ironmonger bringing up the rear with the four blues held between. Carolina huffed in frustration, squinting at the remaining Valley Blues. 

"What does 'integration' mean?" 

"Means the fuckers forgot 'bout me!" Immanual kicked the wall, almost toppling himself as he unbalanced. 

Ignas shook his head, shoulders slumping in defeat, "What it _means_ they've been picked for modification, so they can be controlled and used as labourers around the base. Like we have." His wings twisted awkwardly, showing the modifications he'd been given. 

Tucker glanced in obvious worry, but Carolina stayed strong in her stance. 

"They'll be fine. Be ready for when they come back for us."

* * *

Twisting back through the maze of a base, which seemed more suited to hold an entire army rather than a single squad, Commander led the procession into what was the much too big medical ward. Amongst the rows of beds were tables filled with papers and machinery, all stained with varying levels of oil and blood. 

With the way Ironmonger bounced in clear excitement, Washington was already assessing every possible escape route. There was the wide entrance they had come through, as well as three doors at the back of the room, where through the glass windows, private surgery theaters could be seen. Other than the flimsy cots, there wasn’t any cover for a possible gun fight, but it was two versus two even if the Valley Blues couldn’t fight back. 

“Hmm~ Let’s do the easy one first! Hopefully less mess.”

Ironmonger slapped a hand against Washington’s chest, and he felt his stomach drop in dread. M-4 was quick to push him towards the theater, and Commander had his gun at the ready, trained on him. Things were moving too fast to formulate a plan that didn’t get himself or Caboose shot, except-

The four of them entered the theater, leaving Caboose and Aloyisus alone, still holding hands. Washington desperately shouted over his shoulder.

“Caboose! Shouldn’t the _others_ be here _with us_?”

“Hmm. Yes, it would be more fun if everyone was here. Don’t you think so too, new friend?”

Aloyisus twisted to look up at Caboose, “I don’t know. I didn’t find this fun when my squad was all together…”

“Oh. Wash! He says it’s not as fun if were all together!”

The door mag locked shut.

“Not the brightest crayon in the box eh?” Ironmonger let out an amused sound.

“Personally, I only had red canyons.” Commander readjusted his grip.

Wash sighed, “Sometimes I wonder if I died and went to hell a few years back…”

M-4 nodded, “Mood.”

Washington spun on the spot, swinging his leg up to knock the gun from Commander’s grasp, flinging it to the back of the room. The Jungle Red leader fumbled to reach for his holstered pistol as the freelancer used his new angle to shoulder charge at his chest, knocking him to the ground. He pivoted to charge at Ironmonger, who had moved the low gravitational table to put the length of it between them. Hovering at knee height, the most effective path was to step up onto it and use his elevated position to knock the Red mechanic down.

In the moment Washington went to lift his leg up, a massive weight struck the back of his knees, his momentum now pushing him face first into the table, arms outstretched in a useless attempt to brace himself. His helmet struck the metal with a resounding thud, and the whole table shifted as the weight came to rest on his back, a set of hands pinning his own. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the Valley Blue lean in close from above. 

“What? Why are you helping them!?”

Their voice dropped to a whisper. 

“We need you at full strength if you’re going to help us.“

Ironmonger spared no time securing Washington to the table, drilling metal straps to attach his armor to the table. Commander, swearing profusely, retrieved his gun and held it pressed against Washington's head for the remaining time.

Outside, Caboose had finally let go of Aloysius' hand, the two now facing each other down.

Aloysius wriggled his real and fake fingers, “Alright, do I have to hold you down too?”

“Oh! No that’s okay. My hands were getting sweaty anyway, I can hold myself down.“

“You sure?”

“Yes. I am a big boy who can go by myself… most of the time.”

“Oh. Well that’s good. Hope you weren’t too attached to your legs!“

“I’m attached to my what now?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) I had an idea and decided, canon-compliance be damned. I write what I want. So here's to everyone who was worried about the Blues. Heheh


End file.
